By Any Means Necessary
by Sprocket Wrench
Summary: The entire Wade family - or what's left of it - is scattered throughout Middle Earth. The world is about to find out just what lengths a father will go to in order to reunite his children. Scott Wade will tear through story and war to find his three children, Peggy, Teddy, and Ally - but will he be in time?
1. Chapter 1: Kicking and Screaming

**DISCLAIMER**

****PLEASE READ****

Do not expect book accuracy from this fanfiction. I am taking many, many liberties which usually frustrate me, but because I am a lazy slob of a writer, I decided not to struggle with the language barrier. So, unfortunately, since I do plan on this story being long enough to read but not long enough to bore people, I am not going to have the characters speak Westron. I will be having enough trouble trying to keep the characters IC, and my OC's non-Sueish. Entering the Lord of the Rings fandom is a big step for me, seeing as I have the greatest respect for Tolkien and only gingerly and hesitantly enter his magical world, forcing my modern-day characters into his pristine literature. While I do love Tolkien, I shall not try to leave canon intact – there's not much point in putting modern day characters in Lord of the Rings if things don't change, even a little bit. (Mostly romance-wise, silly sap that I am. 3)

I am also going to be following movie verse – no, wait, sit back down! I do love and adore Tolkien's books, and I happen to own them all, but I believe the movie verse is slightly easier to follow, and will engage a larger audience. Please don't take my following of movie canon as disrespectful, merely as another example of my utter laziness as a writer. :)

That being said, this will have much less to do with the Fellowship's journey, and more to do with a frantic father who will go to any lengths to save his children. His children, however, will be going on their own adventures, and I do hope to use them as plot devices to expand a little on other characters.

If you've made it this far, I thank you. Please enjoy this rather tentative foray into Tolkien's lovely world with my fanfiction, _By Any Means Necessary._

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**Chapter One: Kicking and Screaming**

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Hardship makes the world obscure. – _Don DeLillo_

* * *

"Guys! Supper!"

She stood at the foot of the stairs, a hand on her hip, one frizzy curl of hair stuck to her temple with some sticky substance. There was a muffled thump, an exchange of voices, and more little noises floated down the stairs to her ears; Peggy sighed noisily through her nose and hammered up the stairs with bare feet, bringing with her the smell of smoke. There was a dusting of flour in her rumpled, frizzy brown hair, which gave her the appearance of supernatural aging. Her helter-skelter appearance wasn't unusual in the Wade household anymore, seeing as she was the only one around to make supper most of the time – her brother Teddy was a far better cook, despite their three year age difference, but he was too involved in his stupid gaming community than actually bothering to help his older sister out.

Peggy banged open the door to her brother's room and was greeted by the Star Wars theme song blasting suddenly out of nowhere. "Theodore Alexander Wade, you shut that stupid music off and get downstairs so we can eat!" She shouted, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Teddy peered myopically up at his sister, his eyesight a little blurry without his glasses. He had installed the sensor over his door to play randomly selected theme songs whenever someone tried to enter his room, and while it was nice every once in a while, it got a little harsh when someone was trying to sleep. He rubbed a hand across his face and fumbled for his glasses. "All right, all right, jeez," He muttered. "I'm coming, Miss Bossy."

He swung his feet out of bed as Peggy flounced away to drag Ally out her Barbie dolls, and shoved his feet into his shoes. She had become a total pain the past few weeks, running the household like a tyrant, and not allowing him to get a second of sleep because she kept barging in to yell at him. Grumpily, Teddy slumped downstairs and was greeted with the sight of smoke and a sink full of dirty dishes. Peggy came down the stairs with Ally trailing behind her, the seven year old blinking owlishly and sniffing the air curiously, a little awed at all the smoke.

"What did you do in here?" Teddy demanded. "Set off an explosion?" He opened a window and turned the kitchen fan on, waving the smoke with his hands.

"It would be less smoky if I had someone down here to _help_ me, Teddy," Peggy snapped. "Sit down, we'll deal with the smoke later."

"Peggy, the smoke's getting in my eyes," Ally said quietly, sitting down at the kitchen table. There were three plates of eggs there, framed by triangular pieces of rye toast. She wrinkled her nose at the dark bread. "And I _hate_ black bread!"

"It's rye toast, and it's good for you," Peggy said, an edge to her voice. "You're just going to have to eat it, Al."

"We had eggs last night!" Teddy pointed out. "Is that all you know how to cook? Eggs, eggs, eggs?"

Peggy's hot temper flared. "Fine! I don't even _like_ cooking! You're the big cooking whiz, why don' t _you_ make us some pancakes or those cookies everyone loves to eat! Oh, that's right, you're too busy _gaming_!"

"Can we have cookies for dinner?" Ally asked hopefully.

"At least I don't nag," Teddy sneered. "That's all you know how to do, isn't it? 'Teddy, do this.' 'Teddy, do that.' 'Teddy, I hate you, go die in a hole.'"

There was an excellent chance Peggy might have launched herself at Teddy with a plate of hot eggs in her hand, but just then they all heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway. The siblings froze, looking out the window and seeing the headlights of their father's car pull into the driveway. Teddy opened another window and said urgently, "Dad's home."

Ally sat down and began munching toast with an expression on her face as though she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible; Peggy started washing dishes, and Teddy began waving a cooking magazine in the air to get the smoke out of the house. It was an unwritten law that all fights had to end, by either reconciliation or a cease-fire, by the time Dad came home from work. Especially now that Mom had died. Peggy had sat them all down the day after the funeral and laid down two very specific rules: No complaining or fighting in front of Dad, and spend as much time with him as possible. The first one was easy compared to the second, even if the three children got along like oil and vinegar. Scott Wade, their father, was barely ever home and when he was, he was usually buried in work.

Scott ran a hand through his thick, wiry black hair and dropped his keys tiredly in the crystal bowl by the door. The house was oddly quiet – for some reason, it usually was when he got home. Ever since Eleanor died, the children had been more subdued in front of him, but on days like tonight, he could tell when they had been fighting. Peggy's small lips were scrunched tightly together as she scrubbed the dishes, although she was humming determinedly under her breath. Teddy was waving smoke out the window with one of the magazines they had lying around the house, but his eyes were hard beneath his rectangular glasses. Ally was sitting still for once and eating toast, but she had that fearful look about her that she always got when she didn't know what to do.

"Hey," Scott said wearily. His voice was a little hoarse from lack of use. Nine hours in front of a computer screen, focusing on drafting lines, was a secluded life. "What's up?"

"Eggs," Peggy said tightly. Scott noticed that she was getting heavier around the waist; she had been sneaking food at night ever since her mother died, and the result was shrinking her clothes. Silently, Scott reminded himself to give her some money to buy her some new jeans.

"Sounds good," He said, taking a seat. Teddy sat too and he noticed his son had that familiar bleached glow of being in front of a computer screen all night. He had been playing online computer games relentlessly for several months now, staying up way too late and sleeping in far past the allowed time. Scott hadn't enforced any rules, and now Teddy was sleeping whenever he wasn't in school.

"Sorry, I burnt the toast," Peggy said, handing him a freshly buttered plate of rye bread. Ally made a face.

"That's what all this is about?" Scott said with a forced smile, gesturing at the smoke.

"Yeah, sorry," Peggy grinned, but it vanished in a moment. The strain in the air was thick.

"Hey, kiddo, how was your day?" He asked, ruffling Ally's thick blonde curls. Ally was the only one who inherited her mother's startling gray eyes and beautiful blonde hair – as of late, her blonde hair had been a rats nest, usually because Peggy was too tired after a day of school and housework to pin her little sister down and yank the knots out.

"Okay," Ally shrugged, swinging her small feet beneath her. "I hate school."

"What do you hate about school?" Scott asked, a familiar dread growing in his belly. Things had changed so radically after Eleanor died – they had been homeschooling their children, but ever since she passed away, Scott had to take on double hours to make up for the missing income, and as a result, the kids had to go to school for the first time. None of them, he knew, were adjusting well.

"Everything," Ally said glumly. "My teacher says I ask too many questions."

Scott felt that deep, inconsolable ache pinch something behind his ribcage, and pressed a kiss on his daughters head. "Well, I'll have to talk to Miss Stein, then," He said firmly. "There's no such thing as asking too many questions." He hated putting them into something so shocking, jarring their systems with something like public school when they had been learning on their own for so long. "Why don't we all take a bath, and then we'll pick out a movie?" He suggested.

There was a momentary reminder in his head, telling him that he had a desk full of blueprints to go over and scan, but it dissolved when he saw the delight on their faces. "Sure!" They chorused, and the mood considerably lessened. It was hard on everyone – Scott was working overtime to keep food on the table, the kids were trying to learn how to acclimate themselves to public school, and they rarely got to spend time together. If he had to pull an all-nighter to finish the paperwork, then he would do it.

After a flurry of dinner-eating, dish-washing, and bathroom-claiming, the Wade family finally emerged, relatively clean, in the living room. Teddy, who had been the first in the shower, had already loaded a movie for the evening. Peggy came out with a towel on her head and wearing a bathrobe, but as soon as she saw the loading screen, she let out a deep groan. "No, Teddy! We are not watching one of your nerdy movies again!" Peggy snapped.

"It's Lord of the Rings!" Teddy protested. "It's not _nerdy_! You'd know that if you had any taste."

"Well, _excuse me_ if I don't like watching the same exact movie fifty million times," Peggy said icily. "Can't you pick a movie we all want to watch?"

"The only person who doesn't want to watch it is _you_," Teddy retorted. "Go read one of your stupid doctor books again, if you don't want to watch it."

Scott came out of his bedroom with his sweatpants and an old tee shirt on, and the conversation instantly died down. He narrowed his eyes at his kids, not quite sure what to do. If he let Teddy have his way, Peggy would go along with it, but pout all the way through. If he asked them to pick out another movie, Teddy would probably stomp off and not watch the movie with them. He sighed. "So we're watching Lord of the Rings?" He asked, taking a seat on the couch. Teddy grinned, and Peggy sat down stiffly on the couch, crossing her arms and legs.

"Guess we are," Teddy said, and hit PLAY.

There was a loud electrical _pop!_, a flash of white, and the sensation of falling.

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**A/N:** _Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of _By Any Means Necessary_, and will tell me what you think! *crosses fingers* I'm such a sucker for reviews, so leave me a couple and wait for the next chapter! xD This is all un-beta'ed, so every single mistake is mine. *flinch* Let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2: Are We There Yet?

**Chapter Two: Are We There Yet?**

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A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving. ― _Lao Tzu_

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It all happened so quickly Scott barely had time to draw breath – Teddy hit play, and the white flash which followed nearly blinded him. The floor seemed to melt away, along with the couch and the room, and it was as though something was wrapped around his ankle, yanking him forcibly downwards. He yelled in surprise, straining to see anything, but his limbs wouldn't obey his mental commands and his vision was still studded with flashing white lights. Around him, he heard his children screaming, and the noises sent shudders up his spine. It was the most horrible thing for a father to hear, and he lashed out automatically, trying to dispel whatever was making his children scream in such a manner.

The nauseating speed of falling increased and he could have sworn that he felt the wind ruffling his hair. The wind was whipping around him now, like he was actually falling through the sky, and he tried to blink. Whatever it was around his ankle, it tightened, and then began to burn slowly, as if someone were pulling harder. His vision finally began to clear, and Scott saw an image that would last him the rest of his life.

His children were falling around him, at the same level, but maybe ten feet apart. Peggy still had her bathrobe on, but the towel around her hair had disappeared, and she was struggling against the air, pulling vainly at damp clouds to make her descent slower. His son was on his stomach, his eyes tightly shut, shouting his head off, grasping for his father, and Scott tried to move towards him. Ally was trying to cry, but at the speed they were falling it was proving too difficult. The little toddler waved her hands frantically, looking for something to hang onto. Scott couldn't move towards any of his children – it was as though they were separated by a sheet of plastic, and he wasn't even sure if they could hear him.

And then Peggy's eyes opened fully, and she made eye contact with her father.

His children were terrified, and there was nothing he could do. Scott looked down, and realized just how close they were to the ground. He could already see a strip of blue beneath them, as if a river was rising quickly to greet them, and the panic in his chest squeezed hard on his heart.

Then, before he could call out to his children or struggle any more, something invisible hit him hard in the torso, like a blow from a baseball bat. It knocked the breath out of him, and from the sudden silence around Scott he realized that the same thing had happened to his children. His limbs were growing numb from the fall and from lack of use, and his chest hurt terribly. There was nothing to be done – the strip of blue beneath him had vanished, and now he realized he had been batted straight through rainclouds. The lightning was right there, horrifyingly close, the electricity singeing the nape of his neck, and Scott was grateful when he passed through them before the sights could even register.

Soaking wet, he realized it had grown very dark, and he wondered frantically how far he was away from his kids. What had happened? Where were they? Where was he now? He could no longer see his children; they had disappeared into the sky, and the inability to move his body was making him woozy with fear. Beneath him, rearing up closer than he could even comprehend was a wide, black, menacing river. Foamy white skirts clung to the slippery rocks which jutted the surface, and Scott gritted his teeth together, positive that he would be smashed against the surface. Falling from this height would be like falling onto concrete no matter how pliable the surface.

_A boat,_ he thought stupidly, and managed to see the look of utter shock on the men's faces before he hit the water with an earth-shattering noise.

He was cold before he was even wet, and the rain pelting the surface didn't help matters. The world had exploded around him in white bubbles, and something scraped harshly against his bare shoulder. The current was a savage, monstrous beast which sent him careening downstream, and Scott was hurled against a rock. Any breath he had in his lungs was driven from him, and the water began to fill everything – his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. He couldn't hear the thunder overhead since the noise around him was too terrific to distinguish anything. Something wrapped around his arms and legs, and his struggles began to slow. The desperate splashing he was making earned him an audience with the surface.

_Air_. Fresh, clean air. The first breath came back up, full of liquid, but he managed to fill his lungs twice more before he was sucked beneath the current again. But as hard as the raging river pulled him, something was yanking him backwards; Scott dimly realized he was tangled in something. Someone was hoisting him up, and he broke the surface once more, raising his arms to strike against the waves, and saw that he was wrapped up in a net.

Scott tried to pull against the current once more, but then a rock came out of nowhere and his head cracked against it. There was a sudden, enormous pain, and his vision went instantly black.

* * *

Peggy picked herself up dazedly from the leaves; she was still shaking all over, her body wracked with shivers, as she peered around her. She was in a forest? How had that happened? One moment they were in the living room, and she had been upset because they were watching Lord of the Rings, and then everything had fallen. She remembered seeing everyone – Ally, bawling her eyes out, flailing as she tried to reach someone, and Teddy, thrashing like he was being pulled. Peggy distantly remembered something around her ankle, almost like a fishing line, before she was dropped into…here. Wherever 'here' was, anyway.

The forest around her was almost corny, it was so beautiful. Thick trees stood closely together, their  
roots and branches intermingling as though they were sharing secrets. Soft ropes of fuzzy gray moss hung from the tree branches around her, veiling the place with an almost otherworldly aura. Behind her, a little stream chattered against rocks furred with green moss, and curly little fiddleheads poked their heads from the ground. Even though the air around her was warm, the ground was cold and damp from the stream nearby, and Peggy scrunched her toes up uncomfortably.

Where _was_ she?

Beneath the beautiful scenery, there was something a little off. No birds sang in the branches, and the sunlight seemed subdued, almost as if the trees were too close to let much sunlight in. But the light above her should have been green-and-gold from all the leaves, not that pasty yellow color. No, the colors and sounds were all off, even if it was beautiful. Peggy took a hesitant step forward and winced when she stepped on a sharp stick. She was barefoot, wearing a pair of thin flannel pajama pants, a tank top, and an oversized gray bathrobe. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and even though she distinctly remembered being pulled through clouds.

"Teddy?" She called uncertainly. "Dad? Daddy? Ally? Anybody here?"

Silence came back – the woods seemed too tired to echo, and simply smothered her words.

How had she ended up here? Had she fallen somehow, and whacked her head, and this was some sort of coma? A dream? If it was a dream, the stick she stepped on seemed awfully real, and she was very cold to be in a dream. Peggy folded her arms tightly across her chest and continued walking through the forest, stopping every so often to call out her siblings' names and listen for anyone answering.

After maybe ten minutes of walking and shouting – although it could have been less time, she had left her phone on the table before they were dropped, so she wasn't sure – Peggy had to lean against a tree. A warm breeze ruffled her hair gently, and she sniffled to herself. Why was she here? What had happened? More out of frustration and fear than sadness, she started to cry, very quietly, to herself. Were Teddy and Ally all right? What had happened to her dad? Were they all dead? If she was dead, why couldn't she see her mother anywhere? At the thought of her mother, Peggy started to cry in earnest. She would have known what to do – her mother was prepared for anything.

"Mom?" She called out weakly, her voice sounding pathetic even to her own ears. "Anybody?"

It was such a depressing, tired forest, and as she leaned against the scaly bark of the tree, she could have sworn the tree cried with her. The deep ache that had started in her belly ever since her mother had died flared up again, and Peggy unconsciously wrapped an arm around her waist as though trying to hold herself together. She was cold, alone, in a place she didn't know, and her family could all be dead. There was certainly nobody in this forest; there could be bears or wolves or anything else, but there weren't any people. She could be eaten alive and nobody would know. Come to think of it, would anyone really miss her if she disappeared in the real world? Just her family, maybe, but if they were dead she didn't know who would even care.

Peggy was so deeply wrapped in her own self-pity that it was no wonder she didn't hear the young Hobbit creeping up behind her. Actually, it would have been nearly impossible to hear him even if he had been stamping along as loudly as possible and she had been sitting perfectly still; Hobbits are like that.

"Miss? Are you all right?"

She screamed and turned around, every hair standing on end, and flattened herself against a tree. The little boy in front of her jumped and cried out a little as well, reacting against her reaction. "I'm sorry!" He said earnestly, his brow furrowing. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"

"You did!" Peggy practically shrieked. She looked around for a rock or a stick or something to defend herself, but once her heartbeat slowed to human levels, she was able to see who was in front of her.

It wasn't a child at all – his voice had been surprisingly deep for a little boy, anyway. But he was only a little taller than Ally, and Ally was five, even though she was tall for her age. He had very curly dark brown hair, which was rather long and fell into his eyes haphazardly. His chin and nose were very small and pointed, and he had quick, searching blue eyes which were widened in fear and alarm. Although he was very short, he had a bit of a belly straining the buttons on his gray vest, but despite this he had very nice features. Very small pointed ears were peeking up from beneath his curly dark hair. The absolute strangest thing, however, were his _feet_ – thick leathery slabs with very hairy toes were nestled in the soft peat. They were obviously well taken care of, but they were still quite dirty for someone who had been walking around barefoot in the forest all day. She blinked, trying to control her breathing.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," The small creature continued in a reassuring tone. "I'm Frodo. Frodo Baggins. Are you lost, miss? I heard you calling."

"Am I…?" Peggy whispered dazedly. "Where…where am I?"

Frodo smiled sympathetically, evidently deciding that she was either an idiot or insane. "You're not far from Bag End, miss. You're in the Shire. Is that where you wanted to be?"

Peggy felt herself crumbling. Where was she? Did he say the _Shire_? Where was that, exactly? "What…what are you?" She asked, a little stronger, but still clinging to the tree. Hopefully he wouldn't take offense and start eating her, even if he did look very civilized.

Luckily for poor Peggy, he laughed a little. "I am a Hobbit, miss. Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I'm…Peggy. Peggy Wade. And I'm from…from New Hampshire. Keene, New Hampshire. Is that…close by?" She asked, crossing her fingers and toes and everything else she could cross. _Please_, she begged mentally, _please have it be close_.

To her dismay, Frodo frowned. "No, I have never heard of New Hampshire," The Hobbit said, pronouncing it carefully. "Are you sure you're not lost, Miss Wade?"

Frodo was completely bewildered when Peggy burst into tears. "No," She sobbed. "No, I'm not sure at all."

* * *

Ally hugged herself, peering from behind her knees with very big gray eyes as she sniffled. She had been crying for over an hour, although she didn't know that, and even though she had called for her family until her voice was hoarse, nobody had appeared. The woods she was curled up in was very dark, with fir trees knitted closely together and glaring menacingly down at her from their statuesque height. Claw-shaped branches snagged at her hair and nightgown, and Ally whimpered a little, burying herself deeper in the soft dirt she had sat down in. There were too many things to listen to – sleepy owls hooting, birds chirping, branches breaking, squirrels darting to and fro, chipmunks making their nests, and a dozen other strange noises she couldn't see.

By any child's standards, it was very terrifying.

When she had dropped through the air, instead of falling flat on her face like she thought she would, she had slowed down and floated very gently, landing with the greatest of care on the ground. Ally had stood, frozen and stock still, for a full minute before a vixen barked and the small child screamed her head off. The blonde girl had torn through the woods, tripping and stumbling, crying for her mother and family and anyone else she could think of. She was gone, everyone was gone, and she didn't know why! What had she done? She must have been a bad girl, or this never would have happened. Ally tried to think – what had she done wrong? Had she not eaten enough black toast?

"I'll eat it," She cried into her damp knees, "I'll eat all the black toast in the world, just _please_ bring my daddy here!"

The black woods leered down at the little girl, who listened hopefully before swallowing the hard lump in her throat and trying bravely to stop crying.

Nearly two miles away, riding slowly along on horseback, Glorfindel the Elven Lord heard the small mewling. His horse, a dappled gray beaut, slanted its ears forward and listened along with its master; Glorfindel stroked the horses' long, graceful neck and listened for a moment. It had been a human child, he was certain of that – but a human child, crying by itself in the middle of the woods? The foothills of the Misty Mountains were no place for a small child, Elf or not. The tall, broad, golden-haired ellon turned his steed towards the noise and continued off the path, stringing his bow as he did so. His keen Elven hearing picked up the noise of sniffling, and he realized that the child was trying to stop crying. Glorfindel's mouth tightened subtly and he goaded his horse to a greater speed. The longer he left the child out in the wild, the greater the chance a boar or a wolf would happen across it.

Allies looked up, her gray eyes full of fear and wonder when Glorfindel batted aside the branches leading to her small clearing. It wasn't really a clearing at all, just a space between three trees, and Ally silently pulled herself beneath the overhanging tree branches and closer to the trunk. She didn't know who this person was, but he was beautiful. He had very long blonde hair, just like her mommy, and he was dressed funny. But he didn't make any noise on the damp ground, and it frightened her. There was almost a glow around him, what with his pale skin and golden hair, high cheekbones and regal profile. Ally saw him as beautiful, and he was, but in an ethereal, deity fashion. There was no doubt that this elegant giant was not human.

Glorfindel dismounted and approached the tree where the girl was hiding. She was clinging close to the trunk, half-hidden by the low hanging branches, and he saw that she was wearing a small pink nightshirt. There were little bloodstains on the front from where she tripped and skinned her knees, and judging from the burrs in her tangled blonde curls he was fairly certain she had been wandering around the woods for a little while. How she had managed to survive unchallenged by either beast or man was beyond him, but there were other matters to be dealt with. Namely, how to get her to come out without scaring her.

"Le suilon," He said softly. She didn't react to Elvish, so he switched to Common. "Good morning, little one," He whispered. "Are you injured?"

Ally shook her head, and pursed her lips together. Daddy had told her not to talk to strangers.

"My name is Glorfindel," He continued, his sharp eyesight giving him a good view of her. She was very young, perhaps four or five summers, but tall and heavy for her age. Her eyes gave her away – they were dusty gray orbs of innocence, and she was nibbling on her knuckle, obviously trying not to suck her thumb. "Who are you?"

There was a lengthy pause, and then she mumbled, "'M Ally. You have a funny name."

"It means 'golden'," Glorfindel said with a smile. "Are you lost, Ally? Where are your parents?"

The thumb slowly worked its way down to her chin, but Ally peeped up at him fearfully. "I don't know. Mommy's in heaven with the angels, and I don't know where Daddy is. He was here…and Teddy, and Peggy, but then we fell and I don't know where they are."

Glorfindel took a minute to try and understand this – her mother was dead, and her family was missing? "Did someone leave you out here, _henig_?" He asked, using the Elvish word for 'child'.

"N-no," Ally mumbled, and her thumb worked its way back into her mouth. "We fell."

The tall Elven lord paused for a moment, and then gestured to the small girl. "May I look at your knees, little one? You seem to be bleeding. I won't hurt you." He promised. Gradually, the child came out from underneath the tree and looked up at him; he was still taller than her, even when he was kneeling. She had dirt streaked on her cheeks, and there was mud beneath her fingernails, along with her blonde hair being positively ensnarled. He had no idea what had happened to her, but it was obvious the girl was alone and hurt, and he intended to do everything he could to try and fix it.

"I can fix your knees here, but there is a friend of mine who is very good at healing little girls," Glorfindel said lightly. "His name is Elrond. Do you know him?"

Ally shook her head, and looked at him seriously. "No…" She trailed off. "I'm not supposed to go with strangers…"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled genuinely. "A very good point, but I do not want to leave you out here. There may be wolves and bears and other wild beasts out here. I would go get my friend and bring him here, save I think the journey would take too long."

She looked around and drew closer to him. "Bears?"

Glorfindel nodded wisely. "Bears."

Ally bit her lip and finally nodded hesitantly. "But…but what if my daddy comes back?"

The Elf looked away, not wanting to break this to the small child. If her father had 'fallen', then there was a good chance he had already been devoured by the wild animals who roamed these woods. If he had abandoned her here, then there was a good chance he would meet Glorfindel's arrow later, when he was out on patrol. "I do not think your father will come back, Ally," He told her gently. "Will you come with me?"

Ally's face crumpled a little, but she swallowed hard and tried to be brave. "Uh-huh," She whispered, and followed the tall golden lord to his horse.

* * *

**A/N:** _We'll be following Teddy in the next chapter, since the poor lad's gotta spend some time on his own before he's discovered. ^^ Again, un'beta-ed, so I'm sure it's rife with errors. *gulp* I've never been good at proofreading my own work, frankly. Anyway, I would love to hear what you think! _

_Also, pictures of Teddy, Peggy and Ally are on my profile – at least, as close to them as I could find. No writer is happy with a picture of their character, I suppose! C'est a la vie! _

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**Special Thanks:**

**tazzledmuch -** Thanks! I hope you liked this chapter, and I do intend on continuing this story. ^^

**Define X** – Yay! 3 I haven't seen any other stories like this either, which was kind of why I wanted to do this. Usually it's just a couple of rabid fangirls who get to visit Middle Earth, so I thought it might be nice to have a whole family who still has issues to work through. But hopefully, none of them turn into Sues…O_e

**BloodyButterflies** - D'awww, you're going to make me blush! XD Thanks SO MUCH! I did some research on how children grieve/go through depression, and I hope to still keep them IC throughout the story. I mean, they're not going to just get over their mother in a snap just because they're in Middle Earth. Anyway, I hope you stick with this story and tell me what you think! ^^

**SlipperbackTub** – THANK YOU! XDDDD


	3. Chapter 3: Where Are We, Again?

**Chapter Three: Where Are We, Again?**

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One's destination is never a place, but rather a way of looking at things. – _Henry Miller_

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The fishermen who patrolled the little river between Bree and the Shire were a bunch of louts, as far as Butterbur was concerned. One of them, a roughshod hunter named Jarra, had gotten into fisticuffs with one of his regulars, and it would have turned into a flat-out brawl if the beefy bartender hadn't stepped in. Butterbur wiped a wooden mug and eyed the four men warily – they had been gabbling excitedly for the past hour, regaling the awestricken patrons with their wild tale. According to the somewhat intoxicated Jarra, there had been a flash of gold light and the clouds had parted, and a man had dropped like a stone from the skies into the water. They had rescued him, and there was no doubt in Jarra's mind that he was a gift from the Valar. Perhaps a Maia, or a messenger sent from Manwë himself! At any rate, the men were buying the four fishermen ceaseless rounds of beer to keep the story going. There was little to do on such a stormy night, save listen to a good yarn, and the men were appreciative – even if it was an uncouth dimwit who created such a fable.

Jarra was sitting on a table, his eyes glazed, holding a wooden mug of ale in one hand. He sloshed some of the ale over himself as he gestured wildly, mimicking the heavens splitting open and the rain pouring down. Butterbur sniffed to himself and began wiping down the bar. There was nothing holy or blessed about the man they had dragged from the river; he was still unconscious, and the fishermen had set him reverently down next to the hearth as though he might turn into gold at any moment. In Butterbur's opinion, there was nothing blessed – but definitely something strange. The clothes he was wearing, for example: a strange flat tunic with no laces or ties, with odd white symbols across the front, and baggy breeches which wouldn't keep anyone warm for more than a minute. The man had thick, extremely curly black hair which was still dripping wet, and he wore spectacles on his face of some fine, crystalline quality. As men go, he was rather handsome – high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a crooked nose made him look relatively normal.

But his clothes! And his frame was odd as well. His hands were soft and uncalloused, his nails smooth, and his bare feet were unblemished. If the Valar had sent them a messenger, it was of the very lowest quality. Butterbur shook his head in disbelief and finally, one of the locals had the brains to interrupt.

"So, you are saying the heavens opened, a golden light split the skies, and this 'angelic being' descended? More probably you found a poor drowning soul and rescued him!" The young shepherd boy snorted. He was hushed by the rest of the group loudly bellowing for the continuance of the story. Lies or not, it was distinctly entertaining.

Butterbur emerged from beneath the bar, straightened, and flinched when he saw the Ranger sitting directly in front of him. Strider was wraithlike in these parts – moving with the silence and dexterity of an Elf in the dim light. The thick bartender dipped his head respectfully. "Can I get you something, Strider?" He wanted to know.

Strider's face was mostly in shadow from the hood he had drawn. Most Rangers were very mysterious and secretive, and Strider was no exception. Butterbur had an inclination that the only reason he had left his usual spot by the fire was because the noisy crowd had disturbed his thoughts. "Another of your house ale, Barliman," Strider murmured. "The men appear to be having quite a time over there."

It was one of the first times Strider had actually engaged in conversation with Butterbur, and the bartender eagerly jumped on the change. "Ah, Jarra's an old liar," Butterbur said cheerfully. "Naught but a poor drowning sod he plucked from his nets and made a story out of. Y'cannot believe a word he says."

"They seemed rather excited when they first arrived," Strider mused aloud. "And before they began drinking, I could see truth...Strange happenings such as these would not go amiss in these troubled times."

"Aye, that they wouldn't, but do you honestly believe that man over there is a messenger from the Valar?" Butterbur asked incredulously.

"I believe what my eyes can see, good Innkeeper, and there is something odd about the man there. Whether or not he is a messenger, I cannot be sure, but if he has a message I am determined to hear it before anyone else." Strider said, and took a sip of his beer. After a moment's quiet contemplation, Strider stood and slid two brass coins on the bar for Butterbur to pocket, and headed towards the hearth. The man there had been covered with a blanket and kept an appropriate distance away from the fire. He knelt next to him swiftly and studied his face. He was clean shaven and almost delicate, although his build was sturdy and thick, but he was soft through the middle and stripped of any callouses. Royalty, perhaps, since the spectacles on his nose seemed to be of the highest quality. He wore an expensive gold ring on his middle finger, set with a dark, blood-red ruby. Why someone hadn't stolen it from him was beyond Strider's comprehension – the men did appear to be quite afraid of the mysterious stranger.

He also wore a wedding ring. Perhaps the only callous of size on his hand was just beneath it – the man, whoever he was, had been married for a while.

Strider's mouth twisted slightly. These dark days, with their strange comings and goings, they were filled with mysterious creatures. This man could be anything; a nobleman, a Skin-Changer, a servant of Mordor, or a messenger from the Valar. He could, as the shepherd boy pointed out, could be simply a man down on his luck. Strider made up his mind, and shook the man briskly.

Scott smelled a whiff of wet, warm beer and felt cold. The right half of his body was almost uncomfortably warm, while his left side was frigidly cold. There was noise around him, very high up, like conversation or chatter. He was in a room full of people, and for some odd reason thought he was in a board room with a lot of people staring at him. His head throbbed painfully, especially the back, and his thoughts were scrambled. With great effort, he pried open his eyes and looked up. There was a man leaning over him, his face in shadow, wearing a hood and a cape and a _sword_. It took a moment for these images to register, seeing as his mind was still a mess, but as soon as it did Scott started and tried to sit up. "_What the –_" He tried to splutter, but his lungs still felt full of liquid and he had to cough for over a minute before he felt better.

When he finally got some oxygen into his body, he propped himself on an elbow and stared, scandalized, at the man crouching next to him. "What the _hell_?" Scott rasped, his voice nearly gone from all the water. He tried to get to his feet but the world swam alarmingly in a blur of colors and sounds. The hooded man pressed him back with a rough, gloved hand.

"Do you have a message?" Strider demanded. Scott glared at him with as much anger as he could muster.

"A message...? What? No! Where are my kids?" His voice was stronger and Strider got a glimpse of a commander about his face. The man was used to having his orders followed. Unfortunately, his rising voice had caught the attention of the rest of the bar, and everyone began slowly gathering around him. Scott stared up at them, baldly wondering what pipe dream this was.

"You were alone in the river," Jarra slurred. "What is your message, O powerful one?" He hiccupped into his beer and fell silent, getting foam in his beard.

Scott brushed the Ranger away and tried to stand once more, and managed to get to his feet despite the sickening spinning. "I'm not...Where are my kids? What happened to..." He trailed off, and his fragmented memories began to gather. The roaring wind, the screams of panic, the kick which sent them all flying...he remembered it. What had happened? Where were they? "Where am I?" He snapped.

"You are in the Prancing Pony," A man said from the left.

_Why is that familiar?_ Scott wondered to himself. "Where...what town?"

"Bree," Strider said finally, and he appeared to be studying him. "You are in Bree, my friend. And you are alone."

"Bree," Scott repeated, his brow furrowing. He knew that from somewhere, where did he know it?

Everything clicked together like a jigsaw, and he saw light. What movie had they been about to watch? Lord of the Rings. What movie had hooded men, swords, dirty bars, and oddly named towns? Lord of the Rings. Scott remembered how everything had begun just by Teddy hitting the 'play' button. Had they somehow...? The idea was too absurd to consider. Everyone was waiting for him to make some divine proclamation or something, but instead, Scott focused his eyes and started forcing his way through the crowd. There were loud sounds of disapproval and annoyance, but Scott ignored them. His steps were becoming stronger and his head was starting to clear, and he headed straight for the door.

A smash of thunder shook the whole earth, and he shoved open the door angrily. Rain drenched his already wet body within seconds – it was coming down in buckets. He could dimly see several houses, lit from within, grouped in systematic streets around the tavern. There was a thick wood perimeter fence surrounding the town, but he could only see it in the distance. The white glare from the wet cobblestones was almost too bright, and he saw horses stirring restlessly beneath lean-tos. He stood in the pouring rain, barefoot, watching the foreign world around him for maybe ten seconds. Everything was freezing cold, and his feet were already numb. As the culture shock began to settle in, he leapt off the stairs.

If he had been dragged from the river, what had happened to his children?

The image of his children drowning, terrified and alone, swarmed in his mind, and he ran blindly. He slipped in the icy mud, falling to his side and getting covered in mud, but continued on. Scott's breath came short and ragged – he hadn't run for years, not since highschool – and he finally reached the gates just when his legs were beginning to tremble. The architect didn't bother with telling the old, half-blind gatekeeper where he was going, but slammed through the door anyway and headed for the road. There was a horse in front of him, a big bay thing, and it reared in protest at his sudden appearance. The rider shouted what was presumably a curse word, and Scott kept on, not really sure where the river was, only horrified that he might find a dead child lost in the current.

"_Ally!_" He bellowed, pausing for breath and cupping his hands around his mouth. "_Teddy! Peggy! Where are you!"_ The rain was too busy to even bother echoing, and when nothing answered he charged towards the river. It was a foaming, snarling, raging thing, full of white rapids and jutting rocks. He knew that the current would carry him away within seconds, but it might also bring him to his children – if they were even in the water. Scott ran forward, and would have plunged into the deadly river if someone hadn't seized the back of his shirt hard. His shout of surprise was cut off by his collar drawing tight around his neck, and Scott was dragged forcibly backwards, away from the river and back towards the town. He stumbled, twisting out of his rescuer's grip, and glared at the Ranger through a curtain of wet hair.

"Do not risk your life!" Strider shouted over the noise of the storm. "You fell alone!"

_I fell alone..._

"Listen!" Scott snarled, raising his voice to be heard, "I'm going to _find_ my children, understand?" He stabbed his finger at the unmoved Ranger. "I don't know where I am, where they are, or even if they're _safe_!"

"Your anger is blinding you!" Strider snapped back, his tone as cold as the mud beneath Scott's toes. "You are unarmed, defenseless, and unprepared for travel! If you are in such a state as you claim, then you cannot go running off alone! Think, you fool!"

Scott panted heavily, but he felt the reasoning behind Strider's words. Still, he looked longingly at the river. "How do I know they didn't fall in the same river?" He demanded.

"You don't," Strider answered implacably. "And neither do I. But I may know someone who can tell you. He is a wizard, and he knows many strange things...Come."

* * *

The plains of Rohan were wide and lonely to anyone who hadn't grown up there, full of waving gray grasses and too much sky. Even the gentle rolling hills did little to quell the sense of _sky_ – how huge the cerulean skies were, how impassionate and ungrudging. In high summer, Éomer's favorite time of year, the sky was brilliantly blue and the plains were full of rustling green grass, thickly laden with heather and brassy flowers. During the autumn, the skies were a dreary overcast and the grasses were limp and faded from the heat. A lonely wind ruffled through the grass, stirring Éomer's long blonde hair. The skies were low today, and instead of singing of promise in their great expanse, they seemed wide, flat, and hopeless. The world was crushing in on his shoulders – a bitter metallic taste rose into Éomer's mouth, and he spat miserably.

His own father, driven to madness.

The strongly built eored leader pressed his heels into the flanks of his horse, urging the large beast a little faster. His eored followed behind him silently, their horses whickering and snuffling the tall grass. Everyone's mood was low and the eored was empty of the usual jest and merriment. Talk had been decreased ever since King Théoden became afflicted with his disease, and the rapidly spreading sickness had ravaged the once-mighty king's body until he was nothing but a frail, thin old man. Today, he had tried to go out to the stables and visit his men like he used to, but had been so out of his wits that he reduced a stable-boy to tears with his vile tongue and collapsed against his man-in-waiting. His nephew, Éomer, had stood by helplessly as his sister Eowyn soothed the fever-ridden king.

Ahead of the eored was a huge sandstone rock which jutted up towards the sky – it was large enough to be seen for miles, and long ago it had been nicknamed Palm of Eru. They usually camped here on their final route back to Edoras, and today was no exception. Éomer jabbed his spear in the air twice to signal a stop, and dismounted swiftly. It had been a day's easy riding, but he was still as exhausted as though he had rode to Gondor and back. The weight he felt on his chest was back, a thousand times heavier, and he could barely draw enough breath to say, "Dismount, and make camp. We'll eat our provisions and hunt on the morrow."

The men readily dismounted and began fetching picket lines for their horses; a strapping blonde boy by the name of Eorl took the reins from Éomer, and began stringing out lines for them to picket. In Rohan, horses ate before men, and it was a rare day that someone took a bite of bread or a sip of wine before his horse had been settled in. Éomer assisted his men unrolling sleeping blankets and noticed that several men had gone to beat through the brush in order to find wood for a fire. It was a long, tiring day, an although the men moved as quickly as usual, it seemed to take forever.

"My lord! My lord, look what we've found!"

"Hey, let me go you creeps!"

Éomer looked up abruptly to see a small, struggling boy between two of his soldiers. He was clothed in the oddest garments the horselord had ever seen – a short, flimsy white tunic which left his arms completely exposed, and thick leggings of some stiff bluish material. He was filthy from head to foot, and his mop of curly brown hair hung in his eyes as he pulled fiercely at the two soldiers holding him back. There was a pair of strange, fine spectacles on his face, and he was very skinny, full of angles and edges. Éomer hurried over to his men, a frown on his lips. "What's this?" He asked, and he looked at the boy suspiciously. "What's your name, boy?"

"Teddy Wade," The boy sneered. "I've been wandering out here for _hours_! Where am I, and who the hell are _you_?"

Anger flashed through Éomer's dark brown eyes. He unsheathed his dagger and forced the boy's chin up with the point of it – for the first time, a bit of fright crept over Teddy Wade's face as the reality of the situation sank in. "I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, and you shall speak to me like a lord, not some common stable boy like yourself. What are you doing wandering in the middle of the Mark all alone? Have you no horse or companion?"

Teddy wasn't listening – instead, he was staring at Éomer with huge blue eyes. "Did you say your name was Éomer?" He asked, and the horselord sheathed his dagger reluctantly.

"Aye," Éomer said stiffly. "Have you finally come to your senses, boy?"

"Like, _the_ Éomer? Nephew of Théoden? The guy with the totally hot sister?" Teddy said, agonizing over ever detail of Éomer's face. The Marshal started to feel slightly uncomfortable with the boy's hyperactive aura and scrutiny.

"My uncle is King Théoden, and my sister is Eowyn," Éomer said slowly, narrowing his eyes at the scruffy boy. "What of it?"

"Holy cow," Teddy whispered to himself, his mind reeling. He was with Éomer! The horselord! InLord of the Rings! Teddy remembered the abrupt descent, but he had kept his eyes shut tightly the whole way. Instead of crashing to the ground like he had expected, he had slowed gradually and then was placed gently in the tall grass. The young gamer had wandered for the entire day, backtracking and getting completely lost in the endlessly rolling hills and lush pastures. Everything had seemed so faded and coarse, and the chill breeze had made him wish he wore something warmer as pajamas, instead of an undershirt and loose jeans. Teddy grinned suddenly. "So...I'm in Rohan, right?"

"And what business do you have in my Mark?" Éomer snarled, a scowl slashing between his eyes. "You show up here, dressed in strange clothing and a strange name, and I demand to ask your business!"

"This...is going to sound weird," Teddy promised, "But I can tell the future."

There was a long – _very _long – moment of silence, in which Teddy and Éomer stared at each other and the two soldiers stared at Éomer. "The boy is obviously mad," Éomer said finally, dismissing them. "Let him be. I have no desire to bring a mad person into Edoras."

"No! Wait, I'm not crazy!" Teddy said as the two soldiers released him. "Your uncle is really sick, right?"

Éomer froze. The weight on his chest grew oddly light.

"And he's probably been hanging around a lot with a slimy guy, Grima Wormtongue, right?" Teddy said, almost bouncing with excitement. "He's being possessed by Saruman, the White Wizard! He's controlling him, he's not really sick, he's going to be cured by Gandalf the White and –!"

The horselord silenced the sputtering boy with a powerful glare, taking a menacing step closer to the skinny lad. "If another word comes from your poisonous mouth," He hissed, "then I shall execute you personally _despite_ your youth. What business have you had in Edoras? When have you been a part of the King's private council?"

"I told you! I know things I can't explain!" Teddy said, and even though

Éomer was glowering at him, he couldn't stop the excited little bump in his voice. "I might mess stuff up, like the war and everything, but...I...this is awesome! I'm in Lord of the Rings!"

Éomer was trembling within his armor – out of fury, fear, or confusion, he couldn't tell. A wandering, mad Seer was what his men had found. A very _young _mad wandering Seer, to say the very least. The boy couldn't have been more than fifteen summers old. "Bind his hands," Éomer said, and he had discovered his voice was hoarse. "Keep him away from the men. I wish to bring him back to Edoras and question him further."

"Wait, what?" Teddy started. "Bind my...Hey!"

The heavily-built horselord left the conference, going over to his horse and laying a hand on it's beautifully arched neck. Seer or not, this boy had some touch of magic about him. And if he could tell him what was wrong with his uncle, then Éomer wanted the boy alone, without listening ears. He was going to find a way to cure his dear uncle with the help of this boy, and Éomer didn't want the entire eored to know what had happened. He didn't know what slippery lies Wormtongue had breathed to his men, but as of late, Éomer was becoming less and less certain as to who he could trust.

Teddy's hands were tied firmly in front of him, and he was sat down next to one of the horses. The soldier who had discovered him crouched down next to him. "I don't know if you really _are_ a Seer or not, but I wish to make an apology on our Marshal's behalf," The man whispered. "He's...not himself. His uncle's sickness is very hard on him and his sister, and he has been acting rashly. So please...forgive him."

"It's okay," Teddy said slowly. His grin was coming back. "It's still _cool_."

The soldier paused before getting up. "Are you really a Seer?" He asked, smiling a little.

"Um, kinda sorta," Teddy said uncertainly.

"My wife...she is with child. Can you tell me whether or not the baby will be a boy?" The soldier asked hopefully.

Teddy pretended to think for a long moment. "Nope, sorry," He said, shaking his head. "Not a clue."

The soldier sighed regretfully and stood. "I'll fetch you some bread and water, lad. A blanket would not go amiss either, t'will be a cold night."

As the helpful soldier went off to get food and warmth for Ted, the young gamer settled down in the tall grass and looked up at the sky. The first tinges of pink were starting to blush the clouds, and although he knew he wasn't going to be a spectacular sunset, he was wildly excited all the same. Somehow, he had been transported to Lord of the Rings, something he had only read about in fanfiction and talking about in the gaming communities. It was one thing to talk about it wistfully, but to actually _live_ it! It was the coolest thing _ever_! A twinge of guilt hit him when he thought about his family – but besides, they were probably home still on the couch. In all of the stories he had read, the adventures took less than a second in real time. They were probably all fine.

How very wrong he was.

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**A/N: **_I'm not _particularly_ pleased with how this chapter turned out, seeing as I don't think Strider would actually give a flying fig whether or not some random dude ran off, but hey, let's stretch logic here for a second. ^^ Apologies in advance for general OOC'ness - Éomer isn't as bold as I'd like, and I don't think I conveyed his hurt very well...but hopefully I'll be able to expand on their relationship in further chapters. Oh, and we'll cover Ally and Peggy in the next chapter – whew, this is hard work trying to set everybody up in the first couple of chapters! Sorry for the lengthy Author's Note and the rambling chapter. Um...off to Special Thanks now, I guess! And don't forget to leave me a **REVIEW** if you liked it! :3 _

_Oh, and again, un-beta'ed, so I'm sure its full of typos. Especially in the POV thing, past-and-present tense is a weakness of mine. ^/^ _

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**[SPECIAL THANKS GOES TO:]**

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**BloodyButterflies: **Oh, stoppit, you're makin' me bluuuush~! 3 It's not the best on the site by a LONG SHOT – wow, it's really no anywhere close – but I am liking the character monologue I have in my head. Especially Scotty and Ally, I think those two are my favorites. And I had to put in Glorfindel somewhere, since Arwen kind of usurps his position in the movie. ^_^

goldenliger: Thanks! I will! :D

**Pergjithshme**: Your name is..._incredibly_ difficult to spell. XD Out of curiosity, why is it so long? Oh, and I'm glad you like the story. :)

**The Author42: **Thanks! ^^ That was one of the prompts for this story – I have a problem with writing more than one or two characters at a time, since I usually like going into backstories and relationships and such, but I got really _tired_ of seventeen-to-twenty-two year old attractive girls who get pulled into the book/movie and end up with Legolas. :/ (Hopefully, this won't turn into that. ^/^)

TofuDinosaur: Yay! I'm glad you like it! Oh, and your name is cool, by the way. So you're a herbivore? XDD

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underlined: Guest user.

**Bold: **Signed in user.


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